The Medical Examiner
by Cami Boricua
Summary: Alfred loves to go to go to work. Being surrounded by his fascination. Working on his fascination. It's heaven. He just wishes he wasn't this sick. Dark! Necrophilic! Alfred Warnings: Characters death, Necrophilia


**The Medical Examiner**

**Summary: Alfred loves to go to go to work. Being surrounded by his fascination. Working on his fascination. It's heaven. He just wishes he wasn't this sick.**

**So... I'm in a Dark! America mood. So I wrote. In two days. In my iPad mini.**

**This is kind of a Necrophiliac! Alfred. There are no pairings. But if you narrow your eyes, you will see many pairings.**

**Warnings: Death, medical examining, character death, necrophilia... Kind of...**

**Hetalia does not belong to me.**

* * *

Alfred arrived to work at the same time he did yesterday. 5:00 am. Early enough to spend some time with the people he admires.

Alfred is a very famous medical examiner. He is know to solve all of the cases that come to him. He does everything precisely. Sometimes, he tarries. Only to keep the corpses longer. Nobody know this dark obsession. The admiration for corpses. It was his guilty pleasure.

Once Alfred entered his work place, he directed himself to the place where they keep the corpses. Once in there, this coldness of the room crept through his skin. His baby blue eyes quickly fell on the corpses he examined or will examine. In mere seconds, he was in front of one of the corpses. It had ash blonde had and pale skin. "Poor man," Alfred pitied, "he did not deserve to die this way." He remember when he examined the man. He could still remember every single detail. Even if it happened yesterday. "Ivan Braginski. Died of heart complications." Alfred pushed a strand of hair from the corpse's forehead to the side. "I remember opening your eyes." Alfred talked to the corpse, "I haven't seen purple eyes in years." Alfred chuckled at it. The eyes reminded him of his twin brother. The eyes were almost the same colour. Alfred closed his eyes. The image of his brother's pleading eyes came to mind, and he frowned. He did miss his brother.

Alfred moved away from the corpse of Ivan. He looked around the cold gloomy dead room. In a few seconds, his eyes caught the corpse of another pale man. "We're finally going to know what killed you," Alfred said as he walked to the corpse, "your toxicology results arrived yesterday afternoon." He looked at the man's face, "That means that you might be leaving tomorrow." Alfred narrowed his eyes, "I don't want you leaving, Gilbert Beilschmidt." Alfred caressed the stitches on top of the man's forehead. He remembered making those stitches to check the young man's brain. "You're a rare one, Gilbert." He said, still stroking the stitches, "It might take a while until I get another one like you." He turned around and crossed his arms, "But I know your little brother will be finally relieved to know what killed you." He closed his eyes and smiled, "Why won't you get out of my mind today, Mattie?" He shook his head and went to the next corpses.

"Feliciano Vargas and Kiku Honda," he said as he looked to an Italian with reddish brown hair and a small Asian with short black hair. "Cause of death, car accident." "You were the one behind the wheel, weren't you Feliciano?" Alfred said as he turned to the Italian. "It quite surprised me that you weren't drunk," Alfred whispered. He caressed the corpse's cold bruised cheek. "I was told that you were an aspiring young man, if you weren't so lazy." He turned around and looked at the Asian corpse, "Kiku Honda, he was only a passenger. How sad." He stroked Kiku's hair, "A hard blow to the head when the car accident happened took your life." Alfred hugged himself, "Man, it sure is cold."

He started walking around the room. "Who else?" He looked around the place to look for a corpse to admire. He then found the corpse of a boy that drowned his dead heart with sadness. "Peter Kirkland. Twelve. Cause of death, suffocation roulette." He narrowed his eyes, and then chuckled, "You really were Arthur's little brother. You caused a lot of pain to Arthur, especially when he found out you die of such a stupid game as suffocation roulette. They will take you out of this place tomorrow, right?" Alfred waited for a never coming answer. "Good. Less pain for me." He said after a while. He started walking away, but stopped and hugged himself. "You know what," he turned around, "I find it kind of funny. I find kind of sad. You died two years younger than my brother. I really want you out of here. Because in one way, you remind me of him." Alfred looked at his wrist watch. 6:20 am. "Arthur will be here in any minute," he said as he walked out of the room.

"See you in the afternoon," he said as he closed the door.

* * *

Arthur arrived at work at 6:30 am. Like every day, the door was opened and Alfred was in his office. "Good morning, Alfred," Arthur after he knocked on the already opened door. "Morning, Artie," Alfred gave him a small wave, but completely ignored him. Alfred was too busy looking at the photo he was holding. Arthur was holding some documents he found in his office. He walked to Alfred's desk and put the documents there, "I have the documents of the new bodies that arrived here yesterday." Alfred nodded, still looking at the photo, "Okay." "I also have the toxicology results of..." Arthur looked at the documents, "Gilbert Beilschmidt." Alfred looked at the documents, "Really?" Arthur nodded. "O-Okay" Alfred stuttered. Arthur actually got a glint of the photo. It was a picture of young Alfred and a boy that looks like him. "May I ask something, Alfred?" Alfred smiled, "You already did, Artie." Arthur rolled his eyes, "Don't act smart with me, Alfred." Alfred laughed, "Sure, what is it?" Arthur pointed at the photo, "Is that you when you're little?" Alfred looked at the photo, "Huh? Oh, yeah." "Is the other boy your late twin brother... Uh..." Arthur thought for a while, "Melvin... Was it?" Alfred laughed again, "Matthew, and yes, that's him." Alfred calmed down, "I guess I was just remembering." Arthur hummed, "How was it that he died? I'm sorry for asking." Alfred started thinking on how Matthew died.

* * *

_Matthew was wheezing and coughing as he tried to read his book and Alfred tried to watch his medical shows. "Are you okay, Matt?" Alfred asked his twin. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. You know this is normal for me. I have asthma." Matthew smiled, before coughing and wheezing again. Alfred raised a brow, "You sure it's normal, bro?" Matthew scratched his neck, "Of course." Alfred shrugged, "If you say so, I'm going to the bathroom. You better be better when I come back." Alfred walked out of the room and into the bathroom._

_When Alfred came back, Matthew had his hand over his chest, his mouth was opened, and his eyes were wide. He was coughing and his lips were a blueish colour. Alfred knew what was happening. His twin was having an asthma attack, and a probably severe one. Matthew didn't have his medicine. It's empty. There was a problem; Alfred didn't want to call 911 nor his father, who was out of town and was coming tomorrow morning. Matthew looked at him, "9... 1... 1..." He weakly whispered, "C... all." He coughed again. Alfred just stood there and shook his head. "No," he whispered. As if his eyes weren't wide enough, Matthew's eyes got even wider. Alfred tarried his way to the bed. Matthew's coughs became stronger, and his breathings became quicker. Alfred finally arrived to the bed. "Help," Matthew whispered, before he coughed again. Alfred shushed him, "It's going to be okay, Matthew." Alfred knew what could happen; Matthew could actually die._

_Alfred had always had a passion for medical programs. That's what he made himself believe. He it was more than that. It was the corpses, the dead bodies. He knew it was sick, but he couldn't help his fascination for them. There was a term for it, but he couldn't exactly remember it. Alfred would watch every show of medical examiners there was on tv. In the end, Alfred knew almost every term a medical examiner must know to be one. Alfred always thought of being one._

_"Please," Matthew looked at Alfred with pleading eyes, but all Alfred did was hug him. "Shh. it's gonna be okay, Matthew," he rubbed Matthew's back. Alfred looked at Matthew's nail. They were blue from the lack of oxygen. Matthew's breathing became faster by every other second. "Plea... se, he... lp," Matthew tried to say. After a few seconds, Matthew went limp. He was still breathing, but very slowly. "It's gonna be okay," Alfred whispered while he rubbed Matthew's back. A minute later, more or less, Matthew stopped breathing, but Alfred kept rubbing his back, "Don't worry, all is right."_

_After a while, Alfred laid Matthew on the bed. Matthew wasn't breathing. Alfred didn't know what to do, except for one thing. But that would make one hell of a mess, and it would get Alfred in a lot of trouble. So instead of taking the proper materials, he imagined he was doing what medical examiners do. He took an imaginary scalpel and did a Y incision on Matthew's chest just like medical examiner. He did what every medical examiner does. He imagined he was a medical examiner; weighing the heart, checking organs, everything. It made Alfred happy. At that moment, Alfred knew he wanted to be a medical examiner. In the end, he threw a blanket over Matthew, and laid down next to Matthew. He practiced the tears he would have to shed tomorrow._

_In the morning, Alfred was tempted to shake Matthew awake, but he knew it would be impossible. His brother was just one of the corpses in tv. He took the blanket off of Matthew and made him look like he was sleeping. Alfred smiled at a job well done and went downstairs for breakfast._

_When the father came home, Alfred told him that Matthew was sleeping upstairs and started preparing to cry. A few minutes later, he heard his father scream and call 911. When his father told him of Matthew's death, Alfred cried. He cried like he never cried before. Nobody ever knew that he let Matthew died. Nobody will never know._

* * *

Alfred thought of that moment a lot. "You don't have to answer me if you don't want to," Arthur said. Alfred snapped back into reality. "Severe asthma attack, nobody was there to help him" Alfred said flatly. After a moment of silent, Arthur just nodded, "Okay then. I'm going to do some paper work in my office. The others should be arriving soon, and then we can start the autopsies. Okay?" Alfred nodded and waved his assistant off.

When Arthur left, Alfred smiled and said, "Matthew Williams. Fourteen. Cause of death, a brother's selfishness."

FIN

* * *

**If you don't know, a medical examiner is the doctor that does the autopsies. Suffocation roulette is a vary dangerous game played by kids and adolescents. Google it.**

**Did you guys see the Mad Wold reference?**

**I killed Matthew, and Feliciano, and Kiku, and Peter, and Ivan, and Gilbert. I'm mean. My friend screamed at me for writing this.**

**I had fun writing this Dark! Alfred.**


End file.
